


In Waking Dreams

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Kissing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan have a warm and gentle in-between they’ve spent long nights perfecting in both flesh and Fade, slipping into shared dreams when at last their bodies shut weary eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Waking Dreams

He stands before her, bathed in moonlight, washed in dreams, pale skin gleaming as he leans forward and into her mouth, her lips, her form willing and eager to embrace. It is a long-practiced joining, his tongue on her ear, tracing its familiar trail from base to delicate point, warm breath stirring her hair while she wraps her arms around him, one hand on his back and gripping his lean flesh as the other squeezes tight on his shoulder.

“Solas, Solas—“ she would be crying had she the breath for it. But it’s lost as she gasps high and sweet, his tongue flicking the hollow behind her ear before he kisses the _vallaslin_ adorning her throat. He traces mute worship with his lips, licking before blowing cool air. Her skin is alive with sensation, restless and yearning.

“ _Ma sa’lath,_ _please_ ,” she begs, and he knows what to do. He pushes her—or perhaps she pulls him, anticipating one another’s movements like paired dancers—onto the bed, lush covers and pillows carelessly flung to make room. She kisses him deeply—not the frantic desperation of their first union, nor the chaste affection when they are with company, but the warm and gentle in-between they’ve spent long nights perfecting in both flesh and Fade, slipping into shared dreams when at last their bodies shut weary eyes. It becomes harder each time to remember where she ends and he begins, especially when their gazes meet, cheeks flushed in wordless appreciation of all that they are and all that they are becoming. Then his eyes close and he kisses her again, light as a butterfly’s landing, breath catching and she holds hers in anticipation. He exhales a promise on her cheek and she releases slow, their breathing falling in easy synchrony. His mouth hovers over the pulse of her throat, pressing his nose and inhaling as if to waft her to his very core.

 She presses a hand the egg-shell smooth skin of his scalp as she pleads “don’t tease” and he continues south, tracing a lover’s path of lips and tongue. His teeth graze over her breasts, eliciting a shiver as her thighs spread, knees clasping his torso. A soft nip, barely enough to dent flesh, but she keens deep in her throat. He looks up at her and his eyebrow quirks up, playful and teasing in equal measure. She bares her teeth, mock-growling “don’t stop— _oh_ ,” and words fail, falling past her lips like petals in a storm as he sucks hard, leaving her flesh berry-red with sweet pain. His hands sweep over her lines and curves, clasping the tender inner flesh of her thigh and thumbs tickling the lips of her sex. She bucks under him, hips pressing up and into him before he weighs down on her, skimming his lips down her belly. He peels back her folds, kissing the mound of her pubis before wrapping his mouth over her pearl.

It’s too much, it always is, but _oh_ he plays her like an instrument, each flick of his tongue calling another note, the gentle suction working her into a frenzy as her thighs clench over his ears. Solas takes his time as always, refusing to be rushed even when she tightens her fists in the blankets and moans for all of creation to hear “please, so close, just a little— _oh yes_!” with her knees wrapped over his shoulders while she arches into the bed, sweat beading her form like morning dew.

“Are you ready?” he asks, mouth warm on her leg as he bestows lip-softened nibbles on the inside of her thigh.

“ _Ma’lethallin_ , do not tease me,” she says sternly, fixing him with her best Inquisitorial glare. But unlike the petty human nobles who have learned to fear the wrath of the Dalish, Solas remains unquailed, smiling and eyes bright with knowing. She lowers her legs, pushing an arm behind her and sitting up. “Here,” she beckons, patting the mattress. “I want to straddle your lap.”

He plants himself beside her, the brief parting near-painful as she aches to be touched. But it is easily corrected as she twines into his lap, mouth hungry and searching for kisses. She dabs her tongue over the dimple in his chin, muffling his laughter with her lips on his. His hand glides up her back, nails grazing her skin before grasping the back of her neck. She tastes herself on him, sweet musk mingling with mint from his evening tea. His moan echoes down her throat, so easy to forget whose air they breathe as their breath mingles into unity. His hardness presses her belly, warm and patient as he waits for her to reach down and wrap her fingers about the shaft, thumb resting on the tip as she strokes him. She pulls back, watching him bite his lip and groan past his teeth, eyes shut until she coaxes “eyes open, _vhenan’ara_.” He obeys and she watches him while rising, carefully positioning herself over him so he nudges against her opening. His brow crinkles, eyes starting to close again before she dots his nose with her tongue. “No, eyes open,” she insists, sliding down. That first shock of penetration, bodies gliding and merging—his breath falters, pupils dilated and she could be lost in those depths forever as she falls into him, embracing him deep with her legs fitted around his hips and his fingers in her hair. His knees bend, tilting her forward so she braces her hands on his shoulders, eyes locked as she gains her rhythm.

It’s an easy harmony and the knit of his flesh a familiar pleasure. Her breath thins to a rasp as his body matches hers with gentle thrust for thrust, moan to moan and sigh to sigh. Dream-darkened eyes stay fixed on hers as she gasps, building closer but that blissful peak dances elusively out of reach. He lowers his hand, starting for that sensitive bud but she shakes her head.

“No. I would rather you hold me,” she explains, tracing her thumb over his lower lip. He nods, kissing her fingers and pulling them into his mouth one by one. His tongue swirls, suckling up to the first joint before releasing with a wet pop each time. She kisses him again, noses bumping before she tilts her head, moaning as she reaches for the junction of her thighs. Deft, practiced movements coupled with the feel of him under her, inside her, bodies melting into shared eternity and her mind stills to transcendental purity of pleasure as all that they are—love, passion, purpose—crashes about her. She cries “Solas!” and her body tightens. He bites his lip in an effort to hold back, but she is too lost in her own throes to recognize his weak gasp as he also reaches climax.

They remain holding one another, shivering in the aftermath before she suggests the blankets might be warmer. He brushes his forehead to hers, sighing contentment before nodding.

There is no need for further words, familiar as they are with each other—he plucks her favorite pillow and lays it in place as she dismounts him. She gives the greater share of the blankets to Solas and wriggles her feet so her toes peep into cool air while the rest of her lies snugly under the covers. Even sleep cannot part them, for the Fade is but a shared dream.


End file.
